


Whiskey-soaked Memories

by Pen_meister61



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 19:39:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16729482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pen_meister61/pseuds/Pen_meister61
Summary: Tom and Tord meet again in a bar after the events of The End. That's pretty much it.





	Whiskey-soaked Memories

The air in the bar was heavy, saturated with cigar smoke and the stench of alcohol, Tom's favourite setting. He came here every weekend to drink himself silly, maybe even getting lucky some nights. Tonight was like any other, sitting in the mildly uncomfortable support of a cheap bar-stool, leaning against the large slab of polished wood, behind which, a bartender stood. Whiskey in hand, Tom's swimming vision dragged across the scene that played out before him. People were chatting, drinking, even a few games were going on- the usual atmosphere. Yet, one game in particular caught his inebriated attention, it was the most observed match of poker that he'd ever seen; crowds of people were huddled around two figures that sat across from each other. The man on the left was hunched over the table, squinting intently at the cards on the table, pondering his next move. Humorously enough, his opponent was almost his exact opposite; he was leaning back in his seat, cards lazily fanned towards his face, an award-winning smirk plastered over his devilish face. Tom focused his hazy vision on the man...  
Then his heart stopped.  
Tord. Fucking. Larsin. Tom turned away, almost daring himself to believe it was true. A sick feeling churned in his stomach as he looked back, yep, that was his nemesis. Sitting ten feet away from him. The black-eyed man thought he was done with all that mess two years ago. But no, life had decided to throw him a curve-ball this melancholy evening. The Norwegian man sat forward, laying his cards out on the table, some sharp-witted words leaving his mouth as he did so. It must have been a good hand, Tom thought, as the reactions of the surrounding entourage said it all; Tord's side cheering and howling, the other's shouting and booing. The opposing man begrudgingly threw a heaping stack of money Tord's way, which he accepted mockingly. So much for sportsmanship.  
Tom though that he'd just about seen enough, sighing deeply and turning back to his spot on the splintered hardwood of the bar. Taking a final swig from his glass, he laid enough money to cover his bad habit on the surface, placing his cup on top for good measure. As he was getting up to leave, his dis-coordinated body failed him, tripping over nothing. A cold, metallic appendage saved his fall, catching hold of one of Tom's arms. Looking up, Tom almost wished that he had just fallen and dealt with the humiliation. The strong grip pulled the intoxicated man up effortlessly, allowing him to balance on his own, untrustworthy feet. Tom was met with the pearly-white smile of this old roommate. If Tom wasn't so mind-numbingly wasted, he would've sworn he saw something similar to concern in Tord's eyes- well, eye. The other one was covered by a thick leather eye patch, or perhaps missing altogether. Serves him right, Tom thought.  
"Hello, old friend." Tord greeted, his familiar Norwegian accent instantly evoking a sense of nostalgia in Tom. Nostalgia... and rage.


End file.
